


A Voice in the Sky

by booktick



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dishonored 2 Spoilers, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Nostalgia, Other, Post-Dishonored 2 (Video Game), Post-Dishonored: Death of the Outsider, i guess you could say happy maybe idk, implied teague/pendleton, mentions of the outsider, mentions of the void, this is the non lethal ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-17 05:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16968621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booktick/pseuds/booktick
Summary: "There are few brave enough to laugh in the Outsider's face. But Teague Martin is one."





	A Voice in the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own none of this franchise.

* * *

Every time there is a death in this world, the Void bleeds a little further into it. He had figured that most were not under the belief of the Abbey, even those in the order itself. Teague Martin had been a prime example of such an idea. He had joined with Pendleton and Havelock and the rest of the lot out of some idea that they could change the Empire, they could make the wrong into just and right. There had been some instances where he doubted the whole damn thing. He had seen the way Havelock acted, the way the man took all of it upon his shoulders to help guide them all towards the future.

Havelock had taken on far too much. A man like that? Havelock should have never stepped foot on land. But that was then and this was now, and Corvo Attano would have his head if ever thought of docking at Dunwall. No doubt the masked assassin was busy trying to save what was left of the damn place. Dunwall was a graveyard the moment it was created. 

Teague had heard through the grapevine of the things that Delilah Briarwood was doing out there in Dunwall, the way her witches spread out to secure her position on the throne. He wondered if the throne weighed on Delilah just as it had Jessamine Kaldwin. He heard a few rumors that even Daud had a run in with her years back, back when he was still in Dunwall in fact. At the time, he had been out of the public eye—whether as a part of a coup or hiding from Corvo, hiding was hiding and he was good at it.

Pendleton should have listened to him. Once they took Lady Emily from the rest, holed up in that cursed lighthouse, the man had doubled down on everything. No one was allowed to enter or leave the place. He had taken the precautions before Havelock had even decided to break off from the original plan. Samuel, if anything, was a good sailor and getting an extra boat from an unknown source wasn’t hard when he put coin in ol’ Sam’s hand. It seemed even the upright and most moral of people can do anything for coin. He wondered if Samuel knew. If Samuel figured out once they had him dump Corvo in the waters, that the trio might just decided Samuel wasn’t needed anymore, that the others weren’t needed either.

He had to shove the antidote down Pendleton’s throat, the aristocrat wasn’t going to do it himself—nerves and all that. It wouldn’t shave off all of the poison, not enough time to do that and Havelock would have to resort to something worst and ugly if the deed wasn’t done. But it would be enough to save their lives, whatever was left of them anyway. He wasn’t about to have his life challenged alone. Pendleton was going to go down with him regardless. He knew very well what the man had done to his own brothers, and guilt isn’t hard to hide behind drink. Pendleton would have downed Havelock’s poison faster than a trip to the Golden Cat if given the chance. Play dead, he had told the fool, just like Corvo did. Pendleton nearly cried.

It proved to be true in the end, but that was that. And there was no changing the past.

Pendleton still doesn’t like living in Karnaca. No one does. He managed to get enough coin for an apartment near the water for them both this year. It’s not much but it’s enough. Some, on occasion, do take notice of the duo above the butcher’s place. But with a few greased palms and Pendleton with his honeyed words—no one asked questions. He preferred it that way. Pendleton, on the other hand, still refused to let himself be hardened completely. He still had to gather up books and wines for the man to shut him up. Maybe he should have left Pendleton at the lighthouse. See if Corvo Attano would sneak around to get him his fine vintages. The fucker was the reason they had to leave their last place.

“You would be _lost_ without me, _Martin_.” Pendleton would say, “In fact, you’re your worst company. It’s a gift to be around _me_.”

A gift, huh?

In times like those, he would sneak down, just as he had been for years, to a pub. His hands glued to the bottle that smelled of fresh death—Poor Havelock did try his best though with his vintage, eh? At least it drowned out the noise of Karnaca on occasion. That was one of the finer things in the place. Speaking of finer things, he had seen Corvo’s birth home a few weeks ago, when he wandered too close to the Abbey. Just to make sure no one was getting _too_ curious about them. It was fascinating to see where it all began, no matter how much he had gone through for Corvo, _because_ of Corvo. The man had saved his life after all, saved him from a boring conversation even. He couldn’t blame Corvo for that.

His life, in these last few years, had been good. Compared to the earlier years? He may even say better. There was no need to worry about Dunwall anymore, to care whether his former brothers and sisters had removed his name from the records—it was all different now. One of the few things he could find that was the same as before, besides Pendleton’s ass and clever little remarks, was shit drink. It wasn’t like Pendleton liked to share all those bottles he grabbed for him. And what he had in the moment, while he hid from the world again?

This was shit drink.

“S’not interestin’, Barbo,” someone slurred not too far behind him, “Heard a ship got too close to it and went down like-“ A snap of fingers, “ _That_.”

He took another chug from the bottle in his grasp. The burn in his throat intensified. He took another gulp before the drunken patrons behind him spoke again. He let his shoulders drop and stiffen anyway, the words were far too close to his ears for his liking. He had come here to get away from all of that.

"They're sayin' it's as thick as liquid, comin' down with the rain and fallin' into the depths!" The man from before continued on with the same level of intensity as a member of the Abbey might have, all loud and in the face of his fellow drunken companion. Not that Teague took much glances at the pair anyway.

"Maybe it's t'Void leaking, Arturo." The companion shrugged and downed his own mug.

The Void leaking, huh? Sounded like a bad beginning to a just as bad joke.

Yet, as most things do in his life, a familar chill crawled up his spine to rest upon his shoulders. It gripped the flesh there a moment later and, if he weren't himself, it almost felt a tad bit calming. He lowered his drink, watched the liquid darken within the mug before he placed it on the bar's counter. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the liquid slip over the rim and trail along the counter and continue to spread without anything in its' way. At the moment, it seemed only he had taken any notice. The rest of the bar roared in drunken laughter and slurred words. 

The liquid didn't just slither away from Teague either. Some of it began its' travel by up his fingernails at first until it reached his wrist. A sensation spread over his palm and he resisted the urge to scratch at his flesh. It twisted something warmer then hot, as if he stood under the sunlight too long. His eyebrows burrowed deep between his eyes as he pulled his hand away from the bar counter.

He couldn't see any burns or even the liquid there anymore once he got a better look. The rest that had slithered away, he paid no further mind to it at the moment. Only to this feeling inside himself. Teague curled his fingers into his palm for a breath or two. When he uncurled his fingers, it was like the liquid from before had turned to smoke. His fingers waved in the air in front of him and the grey fog around then went with it. It looked a like Corvo's shadow.

He placed his hand flat on the counter again and the smoke faded from his fingers but the sensation never left his insides. He had heard the stories, during his Abbey and not so Abbey days, about things like that, those touched by the Void having this feeling deep inside until they die. It _never_ leaves.

 _Touched by the void_...

"Well," Teague murmured, "how about that..." His lips began to tug upward. 


End file.
